


Curse of Cuervo

by redtoes



Series: Curse of Cuervo [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Drugged Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Tequila, Threesome - F/M/M, Tommy Lives, sex under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtoes/pseuds/redtoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bottle of tequila laced with inhibition removing drugs has consequences for Oliver, Felicity and Tommy. Set post season one in a Tommy!Lives! AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tequila

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. And this is by far the most explicit thing I've ever written so... be warned.
> 
> Title is from Terrorvision's Tequila

Tommy tops up her shot glass and she giggles.

She’s been giggling a lot.

Oliver moves back until he’s lying flat on the floor and Tommy leans over and holds a shot glass of tequila above Oliver’s head.

Oliver opens his mouth and Tommy tilts the glass and the alcohol splatters and splashes all over Oliver’s chin. Maybe a few drops go in his mouth, but most of the rest of it is soaking into Oliver’s shirt.

Felicity giggles some more.

What? It’s funny.

Oliver’s eyes lock on hers and then he’s up off the floor, looming over her, his proximity forcing her to lean back.

“What's so funny?”

She can smell the recently spilled tequila on his shirt and his face is so close to hers and she’s leaning back and he’s following her and then she loses her balance and she’s falling and suddenly her head is in Tommy’s lap.

“Hey,” Tommy says, surprised, and his hand comes down on her shoulder, and Oliver is still there, leaning over her, except now he’s pressing her back into Tommy’s legs.

“You’re laughing at me,” Oliver says, his voice low.

“It was funny,” she defends herself.

And then his hands come up and he’s tickling her through her clothes and she squirms and laughs. She hits out at him playfully, trying to tickle him back.

“Tickle fight!” Tommy yells, and he grabs her hands and Oliver is tickling her and she’s gasping, gasping for breath as he draws laughter out of her, his body pressing her down, her arms held by Tommy and she suddenly realises just how odd this whole scenario is, and how she can’t quite recall how this got started and then Oliver pulls back the neck of her dress and licks a long line along up her chest and holds his hand out to Tommy.

“Salt.”

Tommy hands over the shaker and Oliver pours salt in a line on her skin.

“Let’s see if you can do better,” he say and he tips the tequila bottle over her mouth and Felicity has enough presence of mind to open her mouth and then he’s pouring and she’s drinking and feeling the liquor spill out over her skin and his mouth is licking the salt off her chest and she has time to think, Oh fuck -

And them his mouth is locked over hers, kissing her and sucking the liquor out of her mouth and it’s everything she ever thought it would be and she moans and he pulls back and he’s grinning.

“Do that again,” someone says and she realises that it’s her voice, that she said that and it doesn’t matter because he’s kissing her again and his hands are slipping up her body, stroking over her dress, and Oliver’s mouth slides down to her neck and she arches her back off the floor and her eyes lock on to Tommy, who is still holding her wrists in his hands and she realises his pupils are blown and his breathing is heavy and she licks her lips and then he’s bending down to kiss her and she knows this is a bad idea but she can't remember why and Oliver’s hands are on the front buttons of her dress, unbuttoning them.

His mouth moves down her chest, licking and kissing every newly exposed inch of skin and she moans into Tommy’s mouth.

Oliver growls and suddenly she's being pulled away from Tommy. Oliver lifts her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her and sweeping her hair to one side so his mouth can latch onto her neck. 

Her legs are off to the side and she looks away from Oliver to see Tommy, watching them. 

He’s so close and she can't remember why any of this is a bad idea, so she lifts a hand to him and he takes it, scooting closer on the floor of the club.

And why are they on the floor of the club after all?

Felicity’s brow furrows and she tries to think, but Oliver’s mouth is on her neck and his fingers are stroking over the lace of her bra and Tommy is kissing the palm of her hand and she can't see why she needs to think about anything other than them right now.

She hears Oliver growl again and his arms tighten around her waist and she looks back to see him glaring at Tommy. 

“Be nice,” she says, raising a hand to stroke Oliver’s cheek and pulling Tommy closer with the other.

“Mine,” Oliver says and his hand is on her chin tilting her head to look at him. “Mine,” he repeats and kisses her. 

His voice makes things low in her body ache. 

His eyes are hypnotic.

She can't look away.

Tommy comes up beside her, beside them, and Oliver reaches out, pulls his best friend close and rests his forehead against Tommy’s and closes his eyes. They stay still for a long moment and they don't kiss, which Felicity is surprised and almost disappointed by, but then Oliver turns and pushes her towards Tommy.

Tommy’s hands come up, cupping her face and he kisses her softly. Oliver’s hands are back on the fastenings of her dress, undoing buttons and pushing fabric aside.

She kisses Tommy as Oliver undresses her.

And she suddenly realises that this is unfair, her being undressed while they stay clothed so she reaches out blindly towards Oliver, fists the material of his shirt in her hand and yanks it up.

He lets her pull the shirt over his head, then he slips the straps of her dress down over her shoulders and down her arms and she’s only just gotten used to being almost naked when his deft fingers undo her bra and suddenly she’s actually half naked in his lap.

Oliver’s hands are on her waist and he lifts her, and Tommy moves with her, still kissing her and she ends up kneeling, her back to Oliver, facing Tommy. Oliver’s bare chest presses against her back, one of his hands strokes her chest, the other hand slips underneath the bunched material of the dress around her waist to find the edge of her panties. His mouth runs along her shoulders, kissing and nipping at her skin.

Tommy’s hands are still on her face, his lips soft against hers. 

She thinks about how different they are, Oliver is all passion and pushing; she can feel his teeth marking her skin, his hands are the ones undressing her. Tommy is soft kisses; his hands are staying exactly where Oliver let him place them.

They’re both Oliver’s playthings really.

How like life.

She lifts her hands to Tommy’s shoulders and pushes his suit jacket back. His hands drop from her face to remove it and then her fingers are unbuttoning his shirt.

She leans forward to kiss his neck, his shoulder, the hollow of his throat and she can actually feel Oliver’s annoyance that she’s paying attention to anyone but him (and how that makes sense in this context she has no idea), and his fingers slip inside her panties to rub at her clit, causing her to moan against Tommy’s skin.

Tommy is very still, his breath coming in pants and she looks up to see him watching Oliver, not her and she’s not sure if that’s about long repressed desire or what he is and isn’t allowed to do and she thinks fuck it and she lifts his hand and places it on her naked hip.

Tommy’s eyes snap to hers and she pushes his shirt back off his shoulders and Oliver makes another growly noise and she’s being pulled back and up, so she’s sitting up on her knees with her head lying back against him and his body flush against hers from shoulder to knee.

“Mine,” he says in her ear and she shakes her head.

“Ours.”

She can't see his face, but his fingers are dancing over her clit, and it’s all she can do to speak that one word. She doesn’t want Tommy to be the kid left behind at recess when everyone else runs off to play. She’s been that kid. No one wants to be that kid.

But this isn't recess, this is something else and she doesn’t know what but it seems to work in a way she never thought it would and so she can't help but smile when she see’s Oliver’s other hand move from its position on her stomach holding her against him, to reach out towards Tommy.

He’s strangely quiet. It’s not like any of them are talking much right now but it seems especially wrong that Tommy is so quiet.

Tommy moves close enough that Oliver’s hand can latch on to his shoulder. Oliver pulls him close, so that Felicity is literally sandwiched between them and she wonders if they’ve ever done this before with someone else. She thinks Tommy would be less tentative if they had. 

Then Oliver’s mouth is on the right side of her neck and Tommy’s is on the left, and Oliver’s fingers are stoking her clit and she feels another hand grasp her thigh and she just lets go, enjoying the sensation of it all.

And then Oliver’s hand slips down, and first one finger, then two enter her and he presses down on her clit with his thumb and she unravels between them, gasping and moaning as her orgasm takes her.

Someone bites down on her shoulder - she's too far gone to know who and the little spark of pained pleasure keeps her grounded, centred even as she goes limp between them.

Oliver shifts behind her and then his hands literally push her so she leans over to Tommy.

She blinks her eyes open to see Tommy tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and kiss her.

Oliver's hands pull her dress down, taking the panties with it and he slips off her shoes and she’s there on her knees, leaning forward to kiss Tommy.

Oliver’s lips are on her back, kissing his way up from the base of her spine and she shivers.

His mouth reaches her neck and she can feel his body pressed up against hers, can feel the stiffness of his arousal pushing for access against her thighs.

“Felicity,” he says and she’s done for. She thinks all she’s ever wanted is to hear Oliver say her name like that. She turns her head from Tommy to Oliver to kiss him but his hand comes up and gently pushes her chin back towards Tommy.

He moves her body, lifting her hips and pushing her back down until she’s on her hands and knees between them, her mouth level with Tommy’s chest and she closes the distance, locks her lips over his nipple.

Oliver grunts his approval and then she can feel his cock pushing at her sex and his hands come up to hold her hips steady, hold her hips in place and he thrusts up inside her and despite everything she wasn't quite ready for that and so she lets out a strangled gasp and then Tommy is pulling her mouth up, kissing her.

Oliver growls again and she thinks she knows what he wants this time so she slips her mouth down from Tommy’s to his shoulder, and then his chest, kissing lower and lower as Oliver thrusts into her from behind.

Tommy shivers as she kisses her way down his abdomen, but he doesn’t stop her.

Her hands are holding her up, but she lifts one to pull at the button of his pants and he takes the hint, undoing his belt and pushing the material down. He has to go up on his knees to do that and she kisses the newly exposed skin before taking his cock in her mouth and Tommy moans and Oliver grunts and he seems to thrust into her ever harder, forcing her mouth to take as much of Tommy in as she can.

She’s literally pinned between them. She feels like her body isn't her own and it’s glorious, Oliver controlling all of her movements, with her and Tommy just along for the ride.

Tommy’s hand comes down on her shoulder and she swivels her eyes up, sees him staring at her with eyes that are almost entirely pupil. His body reacts to her touch and she feels obscenely proud of herself for bringing such pleasure out of him.

Oliver thrusts up into her, sheathing himself inside her and stops. One of his hands holds her in place, rocking with her as she moves her mouth up and down Tommy’s cock, but he doesn’t pull out. She concentrates and squeezes him with her internal muscles and his other hand slips around her body to stroke at her clit again.

Felicity moans around Tommy’s cock, and suddenly Oliver is leaning forward over her, his body bracketing hers and she sees his arm tug Tommy’s shoulders forward and she suspects that they’re kissing above her and she wants to see but she’s pinned between them.

Oliver’s movement forces her mouth down further than she’s comfortable taking Tommy’s cock and she can feel him pushing at her throat and she can't breathe and she makes a noise of distress and then the pressure is gone and Oliver is lifting her up. 

He pulls her up against him, her back flush against his chest and he rolls his hips thrusting into her and she gasps at the new angle.

And then he’s lifting her again, placing her down straddling Tommy and sitting back and Tommy’s hands come up on her hips and she looks at him and he’s grinning and so she sinks down, taking him inside her and his head falls back, eyes closing.

She turns her head and sees Oliver, naked and sweaty.

She reaches out a hand to him and he takes it, intertwining their fingers, but he doesn’t come closer, just sits back on his heels and watches her, watches them.

Tommy’s hands on her hips urge her to speed up and she does, riding him as hard as she can.

She lets her own head fall back, breaking eye contact with Oliver and then he’s moving, kneeling behind her, wrapping himself around her. She can feel his cock hard against her hip and his hands come up, one to stroke her breasts, the other to tease her clit.

His mouth is right beside her ear and she can feel his breath on her skin.

He moves with her, as if they’re both riding Tommy, and she shivers and his fingers bring her closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” he whispers in her ear, “Come for me Felicity.” And she does. She feels her internal muscles clamp down on Tommy’s cock and then he’s thrusting up into her and she’s riding him through her orgasm and right into his own.

Oliver has to hold her up.

She sags in his arms and he lifts her, turns her, lies her on her back and then he’s there, lying over her and her legs, shaky with exhaustion and orgasm come up around his waist and he thrusts home, burying his mouth in her neck.

He moves fast, fucking her through the last of her orgasm’s ripples and as she moans anew he unhooks one of her legs from around his back and lifts it to her chest, thrusting deeply inside her, the new angle making her moan.

He lifts his head from her neck and he looks her in the eye and there’s something there, something she thinks she can almost read and then his eyes are closed and his head drops down and he bites her shoulder as his body releases, his thrusts slowing down until he’s basically just rocking against her.

She strokes her hands over the muscles and scars of his back and her mind is reeling, drunk on pleasure and tequila and something else, she can't quite remember what. And then he moans and rolls to the side, pulling her with him.

His body is mostly insulating her from the cold floor so it’s okay, but why are they on the floor again?

And then Tommy spoons in behind her and she feels safe and loved and she lets herself drift away, perfectly content, even as her body feels sticky and exhausted and well used.


	2. Repercussions

She wakes on the couch in the basement, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets.

When she first opens her eyes she doesn’t quite know where she is. Thoughts take a while to make sense. She's assaulted by erotic images and it takes her a while to realise those are memories.

And then she looks up and John Diggle is looking down at her with a very sympathetic smile on his face and she remembers everything, and there are no words for the level of mortified she feels.

“Oh my god,” she says, feeling dread and regret settle into every fibre of her being. “What the fuck did we do?”

“Shhh,” John says, “it’s okay, you were drugged.”

Felicity shifts under the blanket and realises that she's still naked. Her body feels sticky and ache-y and she just had a threesome with Oliver and Tommy on the floor of Verdant and now they’re not here and how the hell is this her life anyway?

“Where are they?”

“Tommy is on the office couch,” John says, “I don't know where Oliver is.”

“Did you...” She can't even say it.

“I found you,” he says and he doesn’t blush, doesn't judge and she loves John Diggle so much right now. He is the rock in her life, the ever dependable older brother she never had and he just found her sandwiched naked between two men on the floor of a club.

Oh god. Oh great god google, how can she ever look him in the face knowing that he found her like that?

“Felicity,” John says, “it’s okay.” He’s holding himself very carefully. Both his hands are by his side and he’s crouching beside the sofa so his face is in line with hers and he’s not crowding her but he’s there, offering support, and she suddenly realises where she recognises this body language from. 

And no, just no.

“I’m okay, John,” she says, sitting up. “I mean, I'm embarrassed and mortified and I don't know how I’ll ever look at you again without blushing but I’m not the victim here, or if I am, I'm not the only victim.” She pulls the blankets tighter around herself. “You said we were drugged?”

“It was the tequila,” Oliver says and she twists on the couch, trying to see him.

He’s standing in the shadows ten feet away and she can't see his face. And she finds she really really wants to see his face.

“The tequila?” She says numbly. Of course it was the tequila. They didn’t drink anything else and had only taken one shot each of the tequila, half as a test of the brand and half as a celebration of the club’s reopening after the earthquake. One shot and then...

She remembers feeling not light headed, but light, as giddy as a child, playful and happy. As if nothing and no one could hurt her.

She remembers his touch and his kiss and his body.

She remembers everything. 

“Where did you go?” John asks Oliver, his voice cold.

“Away,” Oliver says shortly.

John sets his jaw and Felicity can see where this is going. 

“No,” she says, pushing herself off the couch to stand between them. Her body throbs, reminding her of just how she used it oh so recently. “No,” she repeats, “I am not a damsel, no one needs to defend my honour.”

She still can't see Oliver’s face, he’s hidden in shadow.

But she can see John.

“Stand down John,” she says, “I'm fine.”

He nods, but his expression is still somewhat murderous.

“I’m gonna go check on Merlyn,” John says, in a scarily calm tone.

“No maiming,” Felicity orders, trying for a lighthearted tone but not quite making it. “I’m serious.”

John nods and turns away, and she’s left alone with Oliver.

It’s unfair that he’s dressed and she’s naked under blankets. The thought sends up a sense of déjà vu and she realises how closely it echoes the thoughts that led to her pulling his shirt off.

Earlier. Before. During.

She bites her lip and turns to face him. This is going to be mortifying.

“I'm sorry,” he says, before she can speak. “I am so sorry.” She still can't see his face so she steps towards him.

“It’s not your fault,” she says, “we were drugged.” A thought strikes her. “But what were we drugged with? And who drugged us?”

“We need to analyse the rest of the bottle,” he says and he sounds so lost she can't help but reach out to him, wanting to offer what comfort she can.

And he steps back, out of her reach.

Felicity stops and pulls her arm back. If that is how it’s going to be, that is how it is. She was a fool to think otherwise. A fool to think that she could offer him platonic comfort.

At least for her there was her crush. Her preexisting feelings for and appreciation of him. This must be so much worse for him, tricked by drugs into touching someone he’s never thought of that way. So much more of a mental and emotional violation.

“It’s not your fault,” she says. “I’m okay. And I’m sorry too.”

“If you need anything, let me know,” he says, “I’ll get you anything you need.”

“Thank you.”

“What do you need?”

She looks at him, wearing the shadows like a mask and she doesn't say what she wants to, that she needs him to say that it’s all okay, that he doesn't think less of her, that he still wants her in his life, that maybe now he wants more from her than just friendship, that this experience, as invasive as it was, has changed his perception of her and he’s going to kiss her and make it all okay.

“I think,” she says slowly, “that I need my gym bag and my spare clothes. And then I need a shower.”

“Okay,” he says and turns his back.

She watches and waits as he moves across the room, locates the bag of work out gear she leaves under her desk for nights when John decides she needs to work on her self defence skills, and returns to her.

He has to come closer to hand it over and the light hits his face and she almost gasps at how haunted he looks. His eyes are sunken, his expression anguished. He looks like he’s aged ten years in the few hours since she saw him last.

Since she saw him happy and teasing and fucking her into the floor.

“Thank you,” she says, “for the bag. And I’m sorry too.”

He nods and she takes the bag from him and then he's gone.

And she sighs. Her already complicated life has just become so much more complicated. 

For now though she heads for the tiny bathroom built into the lair, determined to get clean and get dressed, and deal with one problem at a time.

* * *

She’s tying her wet hair up into a pony tail when there is a knock at the bathroom door.

She’s dressed and she’s clean and she's feel a lot more like herself so she takes a breath and readies herself to face Oliver and John.

But it’s not Oliver or John; when she calls out “Come in,” it's Tommy Merlyn who enters.

He's back in his shirt and trousers and she can smell a hint of that damn tequila on him even from this distance and she realises that unlike Oliver and herself he doesn’t have fresh clothing here. He had to get redressed in what he was wearing when this all went to hell.

She looks at him and thinks. She doesn’t know him, not really, but she can remember the taste of his skin and the feel of his body. Prior to this they had exchanged maybe eight words and she’d only stopped to take the shot of tequila with him and Oliver because she thought it was good they were trying to rebuild their friendship and Oliver having more people in his life was something she could get behind.

So several hours ago she had her first real conversation with Tommy and it ended with her blowing him and riding him on the floor of Verdant.

Hallmark don’t make a greeting card for this.

“So,” he says, running a hand over his dishevelled hair and ducking his head so he’s looking at her through his eyelashes. “Are you okay?”

“Mostly,” she admits. “I'm embarrassed, but I’m not hurt. No matter what John thinks.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, his eyes going distant, “he’s very protective of you. Ollie too.” He looks at her and offers a wry smile. “I've been told to keep my distance.”

“And yet here you are?”

“Well it seemed a bit...artificial to try and keep our distance after that.”

Felicity snorts.

“Yeah,” she says, “quite.”

“Look,” he says, “I wanted to say I was sorry.” And she waves a hand in the air. His eyes track the movement and his brow furrows. “But maybe sorry isn't what you want to hear right now.”

“Damn right,” she mutters, feeling sore about how all three of the men are treating her like a victim. There were three of them on the floor and all three of them were drugged and all three of them were actively involved. It isn’t any worse for her just because she's the girl.

“What do you want to hear?” Tommy says, curiously.

“I don't know,” Felicity admits, “but what I'm feeling right now is mostly embarrassment. I don't feel victimised or abused or traumatised. But if they keep treating me like some sort of delicate flower about to cry ’rape’ I’m going to end up feeling like that and that’s not what I want to feel right now.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow at her but doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for her to tell him what she wants. She likes that. He's not tying to tell her how she feels, instead he’s letting her express herself.

He’s a breath of fresh air in comparison to John’s oh so careful victim support and Oliver’s obvious trauma.

“I feel embarrassed,” she says, “I feel mortified. And I want to feel that. This is embarrassing and mortifying. But that’s it. And maybe if we could all just treat it like that instead of treating it like trauma, we can put this all behind us. I mean it was great sex - really great sex - but it doesn’t have to change all our lives.”

“Okay,” Tommy says, “I can do that. I am a master at dealing with embarrassment. Lots of experience there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They say it never gets worse than that first naked picture in a tabloid but believe me, the second, third and fourth nude shot isn’t much easier.”

Felicity feels her eyebrows raise.

“I think the worst one might have been that time at Disneyworld,” Tommy says nostalgically, “but then who hasn't debauched a Disney princess behind a roller coaster? Those costumes are surprisingly easy access.”

And Felicity can’t help it, she laughs.

Tommy smiles.

“There,” he says, “anything you can do, I have done worse.”

“Which one?” She asks with a giggle, “which princess was it?”

“Snow White,” Tommy admits, “and then later Minnie Mouse, but I made her take the head off because, frankly, that’s too far even for me.”

And Felicity laughs. Laughs at this man and his frank admissions, laughs at the incredulity of these circumstances. Who would have thought Tommy Merlyn would be the best equipped to deal with the morning after a drug-induced threesome?

Though, she adds mentally, given what he's just told her, perhaps that was always going to be the way. The man seems shameless.

“If you need any tips,” Tommy says, “on dealing with embarrassment, you can always call me.”

“Thanks,” she says, “I’d like that.”

“Of course,” he adds, “you could always call me anyway.”

Felicity blinks at him.

“Tommy Merlyn,” she says, not quite believing her ears, “did you seriously just ask me out?”

Tommy pulls a face as if he’s pondering something.

“Yup, yup, I think I did.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Do you really think that's a good idea?”

“I don't know,” Tommy says, and his eyes are locked on hers and she recognises the look - or it might be more accurate to say she remembers that look - and she has to catch her breath.

“I don't know what the deal is between you and Oliver -”

“There’s nothing between me and Oliver,” she says and he eyes her for a second then nods.

“Okay,” he says, “then maybe we could try that again when we’re not stoned out of our minds.”

“Aren’t you with Laurel? Oliver’s Laurel.”

Tommy's mouth twists.

“No,” he says, “I’m not.”

“I don't want to get in the middle of something,” Felicity says and Tommy looks at her and raises an eyebrow and she remembers how recently she was in the middle of something and she feels herself blush crimson.

“I thought you were very good in the middle of something,” he says, and his voice is more than a little hoarse.

“I need to think about this,” she says.

“Of course,” he agrees. “And if you decide that it's trauma, I’ll never mention it again. But if it’s embarrassment, well, sometimes if you share an embarrassing experience it's easier to cope with.”

She nods and he smiles and he leans in and kisses her gently on the cheek.

“This is not how I expected today to go,” she says softly.

“I don't think any of us expected today,” he says and then he’s gone and Felicity is alone with her thoughts once more.


	3. Not a date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to the lovely and wonderful Abbie who helped me get my head straight on this chapter. This one's for you, Abs

It's been a week.

Felicity accepts Tommy’s invitation to meet him, but she makes it a lunchtime thing and suggests Big Belly Burger, just to really make sure that there really is no tequila in the vicinity.

If she’d been thinking, really thinking, she’d have remembered who it was who introduced her to Big Belly Burger, and that maybe another restaurant would have been better for their definitely-not-a-date.

But that didn't even cross her mind.

“What do you recommend here?” Tommy asks, looking around.

“Haven't you been here before?” She asks.

“Yeah, Ollie brought me here once,” he says, “but I wasn't asking in general. I was asking what you’d recommend.”

“Oh,” she says, “big belly buster and onion rings. Carly makes the best onion rings.”

“Onion rings?” He raises an eyebrow. “On a date?”

“This is not a date.”

“Well, what would you call it them? A threesome support group?”

“I.... don't know, but this is not a date.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding, “not a date, got it.” He looks around, pursing his lips. “How’s Oliver?”

Horrible, she wants to say. Unbearable. 

It’s been a week and he’s barely spoken to her. Those nice moments they used to have when she would discover something in her systems that could help him and he would squeeze her shoulder in thanks are now a thing of the past. He keeps his distance - from both her and John - and trains fanatically. He’s crossed three names off his list and he did it all by himself.

And despite her best attempts at reassurance, John still spends a lot of time glaring at Oliver. 

There are cracks in the team. The constant pressure of unsaid words.

Blame.

Regret.

She considers what she should say. Was that a small talk type question to which she should shrug and say “fine,” or was Tommy really asking?

She lays her hands flat on the table and doesn't look at him when she answers.

“He’s...not good,” she says, “but really, I don't know, because he’s also not talking.”

“Ah,” Tommy says, “the patented Oliver Queen coping mechanism of pretending things are fine and burying his head in the sand.”

“Don't forget denial,” she says, “lots of denial there.”

“It truly is not just a river in Egypt,” he nods.

She tries for a smile but it feels forced so she just sighs.

“How are you?”

“Me?” Tommy raises his eyebrows. “I’m fine. I mean, we broke the one rule of a ménage a trois which is to make sure you never see any of the people involved again, because that conversation is never not awkward, but apart from that.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“Yeah,” he says breezily waving a hand, then off her look he drops the carefree act. “Once, okay, twice, but never with another guy. And certainly never with someone I’ve known since before I could walk.”

“Is it different?” She asks, “with two girls?”

“Yes,” he says, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips, “it was more about me. Whereas our thing, not sure if you noticed, but that was all about you.”

Felicity can feel the rising blush on her cheeks but she doesn't let it distract her. As much as she’s tried to focus on other things, her head is full of thoughts of Tommy and Oliver, Oliver and Tommy, Tommy and Oliver and her.

She wants to talk about this. She needs to talk about this.

And Tommy is the only person she can talk to.

“See I thought,” she says, slowly, “that really it was all about Oliver.”

She watches him and she speaks and notes the way his mouth quirks. It's not an amused expression, more a rueful one.

“I think,” Tommy says, “that it was about Oliver and you. I was just along for the ride.”

“There is no Oliver and me.”

“Really,” he raises an eyebrow, and wow, how much gesturing does he do with his eyebrows? He’s like another Diggle. “Because I seem to remember a lot of possessive words being thrown about. And there was that moment where he literally growled at me for touching you.”

“There is no Oliver and me,” she repeats, she insists. 

“Yeah, right.”

“There isn't,” she says, “I mean, I will admit that I’ve looked. And I liked what I saw, but that’s it. He has made it very clear he has no interest in me at all.”

“’Mine,’” Tommy says, leaning forward and locking eyes with her. “’Mine.’”

“It doesn't mean anything,” she blushes, “we were out of of our minds.”

“So you’re not his?”

“No.”

“And you don’t want to be?”

“There is no me and Oliver,” she says.

“That’s not answering my question.”

“Okay,” she says, and she pushes up on the table, leans over and kisses Tommy on the lips. It's not a delicate kiss or a deep kiss, but it’s a kiss with intent.

And it’s quick.

She pulls back and stands up. “Does that answer your question?” She asks. “I'm going to order. Belly buster and onion rings, right? Do you want diet soda or regular?”

“Surprise me,” he says. He looks a little stunned but his eyes are dancing with merriment.

“Okay,” she says, and goes to the counter to catch Carly’s eye. She knows they could have waited for table service but it’s far more dramatic this way.

And if there’s one thing she’s learned from Oliver, it's the power of drama.

“So,” Tommy says when she sits back down with the sodas, food ordered. “Remind me again how this isn't a date.”

“No.”

“Because that,” and he waves his hand between them, “that felt quite date like.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not complaining,” he says, “if a beautiful woman wants to use me for my body who am I to complain? But I'm just saying that there are some mixed messages happening here.”

She opens her mouth to try and explain. To say how confused she is, how confused she feels, but how sitting here with him makes it all make a certain amount of sense -

But she doesn’t get the chance.

“Tommy!” A slight dark-haired girl throws herself at Tommy and he rocks back in the booth, surprised.

“Thea?”

But if that’s Thea Queen...

Felicity blinks at Tommy then turns and looks and, yes, there Oliver is, watching them with a completely unreadable expression on his face.

“Tommy!” Thea says, “I haven't seen you in ages! And now you're here. Why are you here?”

“Ollie recommended it,” Tommy says, and Felicity is impressed at his apparent complete lack of shock and nerves at the sight of his best friend.

She, on the other hand, feels like the bottom has fallen out of her stomach. 

“Budge over,” Thea says, squeezing into the booth beside Tommy, forcing the older man to move across. She turns and grins at Felicity. “Hi!” She narrows her eyes. “Haven’t we met before?”

“This is Felicity,” Tommy says.

Comprehension dawns on Thea’s face and she turns to Oliver.

“This is your Felicity, right?”

Felicity chokes.

“No!” She gasps, at the exact same time Oliver says, “Yes.”

She blinks and looks up. He’s moved while she wasn't looking and now he’s standing by the booth looking at her with that same unreadable expression.

And then it’s like a light switches on and he’s smiling pleasantly at Thea.

“Felicity brought Walter flowers in the hospital,” Oliver says, “she works at QC. She’s indispensable.”

Felicity blinks and Oliver smiles that polite smile at her then turns to Thea. “But we’re gatecrashing. We should let them eat.”

“But I haven't seen Tommy in ages,” Thea pouts.

“It’s okay,” Tommy says, glancing at Felicity, probably to see if she objects but she’s still a little shocked at the indispensable line and so she doesn’t realise that’s what he’s doing until he says, “we don’t mind.”

“See?” Thea says and cuddles up to Tommy. “That's why you’re my favorite.”

Oliver looks at Felicity and Felicity looks at Oliver and she shuffles across the seat. She tries to give him as much space as she can and so she ends up pressed against the wall.

“So how do you know Tommy?” Thea says to Felicity, leaning over the table.

“I... met him at Verdant,” Felicity says. She has a whole prepared story but Thea is already moving on.

“Oh, I am so glad you guys are reopening soon,” Thea says, “night life in this city has been absolutely dead recently. When’s the big night?”

“Soon,” Tommy says. 

“I'm on the guest list, right?”

“Always.”

Thea grins and hugs him again.

“You’re the best.”

“I try.”

Felicity watches the easy way Tommy teases Thea with something close to envy. She never had a sibling, real or otherwise. She wonders if she’ll ever find that easy cameraderie again. She had thought she had the beginnings of it with Oliver and John, but the past week has proven how wrong she was there.

And it only took one drug laced bottle of tequila to break it.

“Oliver, hi,” Carly says, arriving with burgers and onion rings for Felicity and Tommy. “You want your usual?”

“Yes please, Carly,” Oliver replies, “and Thea will have-”

“Thea can order for herself,” the younger Queen proclaims. “But what’s that?” She adds, pointing at the tray, “can I have one of them? But with fries not onion rings?”

“Sure,” Carly says and heads back for the counter.

“You may regret not having onion rings,” Tommy says, “I have it on good authority they’re the best thing on the menu.”

“I did not say that,” Felicity says, shocked into replying.

“You really did,” Tommy says.

Felicity tries to remember and can’t. 

“I don't want to over-promise,” Felicity grumbles, “what if I say they’re amazing and then you have one and you're expecting amazing and they’re only really really good.”

Beside her Oliver chuckles and she turns to stare at him. She’s not sure she’s ever heard him make that noise before.

“Diggle says they’re the best in the city,” Oliver says to Thea. “And by the way, what you just ordered is exactly what I would have ordered for you.”

“A lady likes to make her own choices,” Thea says archly, and Tommy’s eyes flick from her to Oliver in a way he probably thinks is subtle and meaningful and she doesn't want to deal with right now. 

“It's not polite to argue with a lady,” Tommy says.

“See?” Thea says smugly. “So,” she adds, turning to Tommy. “Is this a date? Did we crash your date? Should I feel bad?”

Out of the corner of her eye Felicity sees Oliver freeze. He had been reaching for one of her onion rings - food theft being a well established trope of the team - and his hand just hangs there in mid air for a second.

She picks up the paper container and lifts it to his fingers, covering for him.

“No,” Tommy says, “this is definitely not a date. Just a friendly lunch. A romantic support group, of sorts.”

Oliver looks at her hand, then her face. He smiles and takes an onion ring. She puts the paper tray back down on the table and returns her attention to Tommy and Thea’s conversation, but then realises that Oliver is still smiling at her.

Which is odd.

“Actually Thea,” Tommy says, and Felicity can hear something in his tone which makes her nervous, “maybe you can help.”

Oliver must notice it too because she sees him shift his attention to Tommy, eyes narrowing.

“Felicity likes this guy,” Tommy says, “and there’s some history there, right?”

“Tommy,” Felicity says in a warning tone, but Tommy ignores her.

“Yeah, so there was a moment and now they’re both not talking about it, and she wants, well I’m not sure she knows what she wants.”

“Oooooh,” Thea says, “I rock at romantic advice. Who is he?” Thea leans forward, her chin resting on her raised hands. “What does he look like?”

Felicity blinks, then glares at Tommy, who grins and shrugs.

“You don't know him,” she says to Thea.

“Of course I don't know him,” Thea says, “I don't know you. But sometimes you get the best advice from people you don't know. Fresh eyes, you know?”

“I...”

“Come on, you can tell me. So, did you kiss him?” Thea is so eager to help that Felicity relents.

And if this is not going away, maybe she can use it to her advantage. Felicity very carefully does not look at Oliver.

“Yes,” she says. “I kissed him.”

“And?”

“We were drunk,” Felicity says, “and we...kissed and he’s been weird ever since.”

“Weird how?”

“Not talking about it,” Felicity says, “avoiding me. Being weird.”

“Oh,” Thea says, sounding disappointed, “do you think he regrets the kiss?”

“Yes,” Felicity agrees, “I absolutely think he regrets it and now I have to work with him and everything is strange. Awkward. I don't want things to be awkward.”

“Yeah,” Thea admits, “awkward is rough.”

Beside her Oliver shifts in his seat. Tommy’s eyes track his movement like a hawk.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Thea asks.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“About that?”

“About anything,” Felicity shrugs.

“I’m sorry,” Thea says, a sympathetic look on her face, “I think you might be out of luck there.”

“Yeah,” Felicity says, “I think so.”

“I don't know,” Oliver says suddenly, “he could just be nervous. Maybe you should give him some time.”

Felicity sees a brief look of triumph pass over Tommy’s face before he schools his features back into pleasant nonchalance.

“I don't think he’s the nervous type,” Felicity says, before she can think better of it.

“Everyone gets nervous,” Oliver replies, “everyone.”

“I don't know big bro,” Thea says, “sounds like this guy’s just not that interested.” She looks at Felicity and adds, “Sorry but that's what it sounds like.”

“That's what I thought too,” Felicity admits, “but maybe I'm wrong.”

Oliver turns to look at her. His eyes are just so blue. She could get lost in them.

“Do you regret it?” He ask, “do you regret the kiss?”

“No,” Felicity says, “not a bit. I wish I could do it all again.”

“All?”

“This wasn’t just a kiss, was it?” Thea says, knowingly. And Felicity jumps. She'd become so enraptured in Oliver’s gaze that she’d almost forgotten that his sister is sitting right there.

“You got me,” Felicity says, covering, “things went a little further than any of us intended.” She dips an onion ring in ketchup and doesn’t look at either man. “But I think it could work.”

“How long has it been?” Thea asks, “is it longer than three days?”

“A week.”

“And he never called?” Thea twists her lips. “That’s not a good sign.”

Felicity looks up at Tommy, who has been sitting silently since he trolled her into this. He’s watching her intently, a strange expression on his face.

“No, it’s not,” she admits.

“I hope it works out,” Thea says, “but I wouldn't get your hopes up.”

Isn't that the truth? Felicity nods and picks up her burger. She’s not entirely sure what she’s doing here. She’s had various feelings for Oliver ever since she met him, and the events of last weekend have only intensified them. And then there’s Tommy, who is sweet and funny and self-sacrificial.

She doesn’t want to put a label on how she feels about Oliver, because let’s face it, until five minutes ago she was convinced that those feelings would never be reciprocated. So she was willing to move on, take this as a sign to see other people. And Tommy could have been one of those people.

And then there’s the fact that she is absolutely sure that the two of them kissed. And neither one has acknowledged that at all.

She eats her burger, her head full of thoughts, ignoring the small talk on the other side of the table. Did she really just tell Tommy and Oliver she wanted another threesome? Well, no, she didn't, but she certainly implied it.

“Bathroom break!” Thea announces, startling Felicity out of her thoughts.

“Over to the right,” Oliver says, waving his arm.

Thea walks away, and the tension level at the table skyrockets.

“So...” Tommy says, “how ’bout them Rockets?”

Felicity lifts her eyes to his and he grins ruefully, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Did you mean that? Wanting to do it all again?”

Felicity turns to see Oliver watching her. His eyes are intense and he’s oh so close.

“Yes,” she says, simply.

Oliver looks from her to Tommy.

“I don't know how I feel about that,” he says.

“Just Felicity?” Tommy asks, “or Felicity and me?”

“I know how I feel about Felicity,” Oliver says, “and I know how I feel about you. But you and Felicity? That’s different.”

“Different good,” she asks, “or different bad?”

“Just different,” he says. “I need to think about this.”

“Okay,” Tommy nods, “but when you’re done thinking we should talk.”

Oliver nods. He looks from Tommy to her and nods again.

“Thea’s back,” Tommy warns them, his eyes tracking Oliver’s sister across the room.

“We should have dinner,” Felicity says, quickly, “at my place. Tomorrow.” She looks at Oliver, “Say ’yes’.”

Oliver blinks then nods again.

“Good,” she says and turns her attention to Tommy.

“Okay,” he shrugs.

And then Thea is back and Carly arrives with Oliver and Thea’s order and there’s pleasant small talk and sibling teasing, and Felicity mostly stays quiet and watches them.

And wonders what tomorrow will bring.


	4. Permission

Oliver and Thea leave for an appointment with their mother’s lawyer that they can't miss. Tommy and Felicity walk them out and on the sidewalk Tommy gets a hug from Thea, and to his apparent surprise, one from Oliver too.

Thea smiles a goodbye to Felicity, but Oliver leans in for a kiss on the cheek while his sister is hugging Tommy for a second time and trying to extract promises of a movie night. 

Oliver’s hand comes up to rest on her shoulder and his lips linger against her cheek. She can smell the scent of his soap, which seems a lot more familiar to her than it should be considering that she’s only been this close to him once or twice before.

He steps back and she looks up at him. She wants to be all cool and collected but there's something about Oliver that always flusters her. She’s sure she’s blushing.

“I'll see you soon,” he says, and crosses to the car and driver waiting for him and Thea. John must be otherwise occupied, as she doesn’t recognise the chauffeur.

She and Tommy watch as the car pulls away. Tommy shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You're welcome,” he says.

“You!” Felicity says, turning to him, “I could kill you!”

“But you won't. And it all worked out.”

“Maybe,” she says, looking down the street after the town car. “We’ll find out tomorrow night.”

Tommy looks away from her and sets his jaw.

“I’ll understand,” he says, “if you don't want me there.”

“Why would I not want you there?” She asks, genuinely perplexed.

“You and Oliver,” Tommy gestures. “You’ve been circling around each other for months.”

“You haven’t known me for months,” she objects. “You haven't known me for a month.”

“Still true though, isn’t it?” He says, “I’m not part of that. I don't want to get in the way.”

“Oh for the love of-” Felicity swears, “right! Where is your car?”

“Up the block,” he says, his forehead furrowing.

“Okay,” she says, “come on, you're taking me home.”

“What?”

“Now, Merlyn.”

Tommy blinks, but doesn’t object further and Felicity follows him up the road to his car.

* * *

“I don't understand why I’m here,” Tommy says, standing awkwardly in the middle of her living room as Felicity bustles around, taking off her jacket and checking her messages.

“That’s because you’re an idiot,” she says, but she smiles as she says it.

“Thanks,” Tommy says sarcastically, “you really make a guy feel special.”

“I plan to,” she says and kicks off her shoes. Then she takes two steps to stand in front of him and lifts herself up on her toes to kiss him.

He freezes, but he opens his mouth anyway. Perhaps it's instinct.

She wraps her arms around his neck, holding him to her. She can feel his arms hanging loose by his sides. As if he doesn't know what to do with them. 

She turns her head to fasten her lips over his and deepens the kiss.

And suddenly he reacts, his hand coming up on back, his tongue teasing hers.

She can feel the heat of his palms through her dress and cardigan, pushing her forward, into him. 

And then he breaks the kiss.

“Felicity,” he says, looking down at her, “what are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” she says and she brings her hands up to his collar and undoes the top button. “Unbuttoning your shirt.”

“You like Oliver,” he says, “you like _Oliver_.”

“I like you both,” she replies.

“But you _like_ Oliver.”

“I like you,” she says. “Not everything is about Oliver. This can just be about us.”

“But,” he says, and she presses a finger against his lips.

“Tommy,” she says, “this isn’t about Oliver. It's about you and me.” She sighs, tries to find the words. “You were right before, I’ve had a crush on Oliver since I met him. But I don't know you. I’d like to get to know you. And... before when we did this... it was like you were waiting for his permission to touch me. Except that the only permission you need to touch me is mine, and I'm granting it now.”

Tommy stares at her.

She waits. 

“Why?” He says.

“Because I like you,” she says, “and tomorrow we’re going go sit down and decide if we want to be three. So maybe it's worth seeing if we want to be two first.”

“But what about Oliver?” He says, sounding genuinely perplexed. 

“What about him?” she says, “he’s not here.”

“I don't want to be second choice to Oliver Queen again,” he says. “I’ve been there before.”

“I say again,” Felicity says, “Oliver’s not here. The only person who is putting you second is you.”

Tommy looks at her.

“Laurel put me second,” he says. “Or maybe you’re right and I put myself second for Laurel.”

“I'm not Laurel.”

“No,” he says, “you’re not.”

And he drops his mouth to hers and kisses her.

Felicity’s arms wrap back around his neck and his hands come up on her waist. 

She kisses him and he kisses her and it’s nice. And then his teeth nip at her lip and she catches her breath. And it’s so much more than nice.

She pushes slightly at his shoulders and he steps back, but doesn't break the kiss. The sofa is right behind him and he must feel the seat against his legs because suddenly he’s sitting down and pulling her with him.

She straddles him, and she kisses him and she runs her hands through his hair and over his shirt. She doesn’t open any more buttons, and he doesn't push her cardigan off her shoulders. It’s as if they’re both testing the waters, trying to see what this is.

She kisses him and kisses him and it’s like being a teenager again. Making out on the sofa.

She pulls back, leans her forehead against his and breathes out. Her eyes are closed and she’s breathing heavily

“This is nice,” she says.

“Yes.”

She swallows, trying to find more words. 

“I like you,” she says.

“I like you too.”

“Do you only like me,” she says, “because of the tequila?”

“That played a part,” he admits, “but on the whole it’s very easy to like a beautiful girl who demands I take her home and tells me to kiss her.”

“So...”

“I like you, Felicity.”

“Okay,” she says, and lifts her head to peck a kiss on his nose. He laughs and his hand comes down on her knee - the skin of her knee, just below the hem of her dress - and he squeezes.

“We’ve moved pretty fast before,” he says, “I don't want to go too fast here.”

“I don't think I know what too fast is,” she admits, “anymore.”

“Perhaps we should talk about it,” he says, “rather than rush into something.”

“Okay,” she says, but she doesn’t move. She stays straddling his lap, her forehead pressed against his, his hand on her knee and her hand curling around his neck. His other hand finds hers and intertwines their fingers together.

“What do you want to talk about?” He asks.

She bites her lip. 

“You can ask me anything,” he says.

“Okay,” she says, and takes a deep breath. “Last week, when we... did you and Oliver kiss?”

She feels him tense underneath her.

“It’s just,” she says, “I thought you did, but I couldn’t, er, see very well right them.”

His hand squeezes her leg and she is sure that he remembers exactly what she was doing then. On her hands and knees. His cock in her mouth while Oliver took her from behind.

The memory hits her hard and she bites her lip. 

“Yes,” he says suddenly. “Oliver and I kissed.”

“How,” she says, and her mouth is dry and she has to kick her lips, “how do you feel about that?”

“I thought he wasn't here,” Tommy says, and there’s an edge to his voice, “I thought this was just us.”

“It is.”

“Then let’s leave Oliver Queen out if it,” he says and twists on the couch, lifting and turning her so she’s lying back on the cushions and he’s leaning over her.

“Okay,” she says, breathless.

He nods and moves down her body. His hands slide up from her knees under the skirt of her dress, pushing the materiel up.

His mouth comes down to kiss the inside of her thigh and she shivers.

Then he bites her and she moans.

“Okay,” he says, softly, “good to know.”

She’s about to ask what he means when he folds her dress up, exposing her panties and then kisses his way along the skin of her abdomen, just above them.

His fingers stroke at the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and she tries to push her legs together, get more friction, but he’s in the way and he’s in control.

“Do I have your permission to taste you?” He says and she’s so turned on now he has to say it twice more before she hears that there was a question there.

“Yes,” she gasps and her voice sounds thready and breathless even to her. “God, yes. Please.”

“Has Oliver ever done this for you?” He asks.

“No...” Then she blinks, “I thought we were leaving him out of this.”

“We are,” he says, “but I want to be first at something,” and she barely has time to register his words before he’s pushing her panties out of the way, his fingers are inside her and his mouth is on her clit.

She gasps, and moans, and keens. Her body shudders and shivers, the feel of his mouth and fingers make her want to grind up against him, but he holds her down, doesn’t let her move.

He teases her, taking her to the edge of release then pulling back. He fucks her with his fingers and her mind fills up with white noise and static. He bites her thigh and she almost screams.

She knows she’s talking; babbling, begging, but she has no idea what she's saying.

And then, finally, he pushes her over into orgasm and she comes with his name on her lips and his mouth on her skin.

As he brings her down, his hands moving slower and slower, she’s panting, breathless. She feels sweaty and exhausted, her skin is tingling. She swears she can feel the pleasure he gave her in every strand of hair on her head.

Tommy pulls back and moves up her body and she opens her eyes to see his grin.

“You,” she says, when she has her breath back, “are very very good at that.”

She didn't think it was possible for his grin to get wider, but it does.

He's close enough to kiss so she raises her mouth to his and tastes herself on his lips. She’s never been a huge fan of that before but here and now it’s incredible. He tastes incredible, she tastes incredible.

Oliver who?

“Come on,” she says, “let me show you my bedroom.”

And he grins.

She thinks she could love that grin.

It would be easy.


	5. Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All thanks go to Abbie. She knows why

She offers and he accepts and so he stays the night.

And it’s a good night.

Tommy leaves at 10 on Sunday morning, ostensibly for an appointment but mostly because she thinks that whatever he says he’s nervous as to what Oliver would think seeing them in each other’s company and yesterday’s clothes.

Left alone in her apartment she contemplates the day. Seven hours until it’s time to start cooking. Nine hours until they arrive.

More than enough to drop in on Verdant and make sure yesterday’s absence hasn't had any sort of unexpected effect on her babies. Oliver and John can both be surprisingly destructive on innocent tech when left unsupervised.

So she runs a brush through her hair and pulls on jeans and t-shirt (it’s Sunday after all and she’ll be back in her usual dresses tonight), picks up her weekend purse and car keys.

Once she’s outside she decides to walk. It’s a beautiful day and it’s not like she’s in a hurry. 

So she meanders through streets, making mental notes to buy bread from that bakery or flowers from that stall on her way home.

Starling City in the sunshine really is lovely. 

It reminds her why Oliver, and in turn she and Diggle, have put so much on the line to protect it.

It comes as no surprise when she finds Oliver in the club basement. Never mind that it's a Sunday, never mind that he really should be sleeping off whatever nocturnal activities he had last night, never mind that there is no logical reason for him to be in his club at a time when most people are having brunch. 

He's here.

He’s always here.

She shuts the door behind her and walks down the stairs. 

Oliver’s shirtless (as ever) and shooting at tennis balls bouncing across the floor. She lets herself appreciate the view in a way she never really has before.

They’re having dinner tonight. He as good as said that he likes her yesterday. 

She's allowed to look now. 

He must have heard the door but he doesn't turn until she’s right behind him.

“Oliver.”

“Felicity.” His eyes are dark and the look on his face takes her breath away.

“I hope you like Italian food,” she says.

“I do,” he says. But he doesn’t look away. Holds her gaze with his. She’s not that close to him but she can still feel the heat radiating off his skin. His chest glistens with sweat.

She swallows, hard.

Her gaze moves from his eyes to his lips and then back to his eyes.

And he moves, pulling her into his arms and locking his mouth over hers.

She has just enough time to think, “wow” and then he’s lifting her, pressing her into a concrete pillar and her legs are coming up around his waist and this is not how she expected to spend her Sunday in the lair. 

Her skin is still half-sensitive from the night Tommy spent in her bed and she’s moaning and writhing in his arms.

Because Oliver doesn’t ask permission, he doesn’t hesitate. He just takes.

And she is oh so willing to be taken by him.

She has been since she met him.

One of his hands grasps her thigh, squeezing. The other hand is on her neck, holding her to him.

His tongue is in her mouth and his body is pressed to hers.

She breaks the kiss and gasps and Oliver’s mouth falls to her neck and she can feel him sucking a mark into her skin.

“Oliver,” she gasps.

He doesn’t answer, but his hands tighten on her skin and she knows he heard her.

A throat clears and Felicity looks up, over his shoulder to see John Diggle standing there, an unimpressed look on his face.

She meets his eyes and she knows she is blushing.

“Was there tequila?” He asks, neutrally.

“No,” she says and Oliver leans back from the pillar and she scrambles down off of him to stand on her own two feet. “There wasn’t any tequila.”

“So this is?”

“A kiss,” Oliver says, turning to face John, “and also, none of your business.”

“It's my business,” John says, “when someone tries to hurt my friends.”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Oliver says and Felicity can see the tension in his shoulders.

“It's not just Felicity I'm concerned about,” John replies, “just... don’t rush into anything here.”

And Felicity feels herself blush, remembers plans for dinner with two men and the fact that the man who just kissed her isn't the man she spent last night with. Is that rushing into something? She’s not sure.

“We’ll be careful,” Oliver says and his hand entangles itself with hers, a clear message to both her and John.

“Okay then,” Diggle says, “I'm going to go and check inventory somewhere far far away. Don’t wait up.”

And he turns his back and walks away.

Oliver looks down at her and his eyes are all pupil.

“So,” he says, “where were we?”

“Later,” she says and presses a finger to his lips when he leans in.

She turns her back on him to walk to her computers, marvelling as she did so that she somehow seems to have become the kind of woman who can tell Oliver Queen (Oliver Queen!) to wait and he’ll do it.

He follows her and when she seats herself at the desk, his hands are on her shoulders. 

She doesn’t say anything, just logs on, and his hands squeeze and start to massage the muscles of her shoulders.

And it feels great.

“Oliver,” she says.

“Diggle’s gone,” he says.

“I've got work to do.”

“It’ll wait.”

She snorts then, blowing air out through her nose.

She spins in her chair and he lets go of her.

“Does anyone ever tell you ’no’?” She asks.

“No,” he says and grins.

“Oliver,” she says, “patience.”

“Felicity,” he responds, immediately, “kiss me.”

“No,” she says, but she says it saucily, offering up challenge rather than rejection.

“Felicity,” he says, sticking out his lower lip in a mock-pout.

“Oliver,” she says, “we’ve got tonight.”

“But I want you now,” he says and even though he’s joking, they’re joking, she still catches her breath.

He notices and she flushes and spins the chair back so she’s looking at the screens and not him.

“Okay,” he says, and she jumps a little because he’s crouched down behind her chair and his mouth is now very close to her ear. “Is this very important work?” He says and she can feel his breath on the skin of her neck.

“Yes.”

“Alright,” he says, “I'll just stay right here. Keep you company.”

His voice is low and it makes things low in her stomach flip flop.

“I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve been thinking about you,” he says, “thinking about us.”

She keeps typing, determined not to be distracted. 

“I could see it,” he says, “I could see you watching me. And I liked it. I like it. I don't know why I never kissed you before.”

“You weren’t drugged before,” she says, then bites her lip. She hadn't intended to speak but it just popped out.

“It's not that,” he says.

“You never saw me that way,” she says.

“No,” he replies, “I saw you. In your dresses and your skirts and your glasses. Pushing at me to be better, to do better, to be the hero you think I can be.” He sighs, “The truth of it is, Felicity, that I’m broken. The island broke me and I shouldn't inflict that on anyone. I don't deserve someone like you.”

She feels her ponytail move and she realises that he’s playing with the ends of her hair.

“But I want you,” he says, “the tequila was just an excuse. I want you. I just don't want to hurt you.”

He sighs again and she wants to twist in her chair, kiss the doubt and worry from his face but he’s talking to her, opening up to her and she can't help but feel that this might be her one chance to hear these words.

“But when I saw you with Tommy,” he says, “and you talked about wanting to do it all again.” Now it’s his turn for his breath to catch. “I want that. I want you.”

And she can't help it, she has to know.

“And do you want Tommy?”

“I...” Oliver hesitates, “I don't know. I never really thought about it. But I liked it. I liked the three of us.”

“I liked the three of us,” she admits.

“I like you,” he says, “I'd be happy with the two of us. But three was surprisingly good.”

“Yes,” she agrees.

“Yes,” he says and his lips dip down under her ear and press and soft kiss to her skin.

She shudders, her eyes falling closed.

“Felicity,” he whispers in her ear between kisses, “say ’yes’.”

And she can't help it. Her head has fallen back and her eyes are closed and his mouth feels so damn good.

“Yes....”

She swears she can feel his grin against her skin.

“Good,” he says and spins the chair so she’s facing him.

And then his mouth is on hers and his hands are on her face, in her hair, stroking her skin and she just surrenders to him for a while.

Strangely he doesn't push things.

She has in her head that Oliver is pushy - he did just manoeuvre her into kissing him again, he didn't ask permission like Tommy did, but he did respect that No, sort of. So she’s surprised when he settles on his knees in front of her chair and just kisses her.

His hand are on her face, in her hair, not on her body. His lips occasionally stray to her neck but no further.

They just make out.

Because he’s not wearing a shirt her hands stray - skimming over the muscles in his shoulders, the planes of his chest, the curve of his back. She curls her fingers and runs her nails along his collarbone and he grins against her mouth and kisses her again.

She can't figure him out.

“Oliver?” She asks while his mouth is against her neck making her gasp.

“Felicity?”

“You’re not pushing,” she says, hoping he’ll understand what she means.

“There’s no rush.”

“I still have to make dinner,” she says.

“When?”

She looks to a clock, turning her head and inadvertently giving him even more access to the sensitive skin under her ear.

He nips there and she moans.

“What time do you have to go?”

She bites her lip.

“Four hours.”

“Okay,” he says, “four hours, I can work with that.” And suddenly his hands are on her waist, lifting her forward on the chair so her legs bracket his chest, and he's pressing her against him.

Oliver - somehow rocks back on his heels and stands up, lifting her with him, and then she’s in the air, her body wrapped around his, and he’s walking, carrying her.

“Where?”

It takes her a second to register that he’s spoken.

She doesn't have an answer.

She looks at him and wills him to understand.

And apparently he does.

“Okay,” he says and walks towards the couch.


	6. Dinner

She doesn't have sex with Oliver on the sofa. She's not quite sure why not, after all she spent yesterday afternoon and last night with Tommy and she enforced no limits there. But here, with Oliver, they never make it past making out. His hands run over her body but never go beneath her clothes. She runs her nails over his back but never reaches for his belt.

It’s odd, setting these unsaid limits, but it feels right.

He kisses her goodbye outside the club when it's time for her to go back and cook. It's a hell of a goodbye kiss and when she leaves she's flustered and breathing heavily and he’s grinning.

Luckily the pasta dish she’s making doesn't take up too much of her attention, so her scattered thoughts, displaced by memories of both men, don't get in the way of dinner. There are about six different recipes she can make really well, the legacy of her foodie roommate Jess at college, and this is her favourite. Steak ragu with fresh tomatoes and linguine. She slices fresh bread and tosses a salad too.

She leaves the pasta sauce simmering on the stove and goes to shower 45 minutes before either man is due to arrive.

And so of course there’s a knock at her door before she’s even rinsed out the shampoo, and she ends up opening the door, still wrapped in a towel, her sodden hair leaving heavy drips of water on the hall floor.

Oliver blinks at her and Tommy laughs out loud.

“I said seven,” she says, annoyed.

“You did,” Tommy agreed, “we’re early.”

She glares at him and he offers up the paper box in his hands like a tribute. 

“I bring cake. Nice cake. Good cake,” Tommy says, “and Oliver has wine.”

Oliver obediently holds up the bottle for her to see.

“That needs to be decanted,” she says, somewhat stunned at the vintage in his hands.

“I’ll handle it,” Tommy says and sweeps by her, pulling the speechless Oliver in his wake.

“Glasses are in the cabinet over the sink,” she calls after them and runs back to her shower.

As she frantically scrubs soap off her skin she thinks about what just happened. How strange is it that Tommy is the most confident of the three of them? She supposes yesterday did its part in convincing him he doesn't have to be Oliver’s shadow with her.

Still she’s annoyed at their early arrival. She doesn't have time now to do as much with her hair as she’d like to, so she finger combs some serum through it and puts it up in a pony tail (which was not her original plan, she had wanted to wear her hair down). Her favourite dress is waiting for her, and she doesn't have time to waste on lotion so she goes straight for it, slipping on matching underwear and contorting herself to fasten the zip up behind her neck.

She doesn't bother with shoes, and walks back in to her living room barefoot and very happy she took the time to touch up her toe nail polish yesterday morning. 

She’s not sure what she’s expecting. She rushed through getting ready just in case but now that the moment is upon her she’s suddenly struck by just how uncharted these waters are.

The main room of her apartment is separated from the small kitchen area by a counter, so when she emerges from her bedroom she can see both men immediately. 

Oliver is on the sofa, sipping at a glass of wine, seemingly relaxed. Tommy is tasting the pasta sauce with a wooden spoon.

The whole scene seems so domestic and easy that her breath catches.

“Felicity!” Tommy grins, hiding the spoon behind him.

“I saw that, Tommy Merlyn,” she says, mock-angry.

“I'm admitting nothing,” he replies. “Oliver will back me up.”

“That was his second taste,” Oliver says, sounding amused. “After the first one he added something.”

Tommy glares at Oliver and Felicity raises an eyebrow at Tommy.

“It needed basil,” Tommy shrugs.

“Yes, it does,” Felicity agrees, “which is why there is fresh basil growing right there.”

“Ah,” Tommy says and shrugs, “I’m not good at herbs when they’re still leafy.”

Oliver pushes himself off of her sofa and moves to lean over the countertop.

“Basil,” he says, pointing to her impromptu window-sill herb garden, “parsley, mint.”

“Gold star, Mr Queen,” Felicity says, insinuating herself between Tommy and the oven and plucking a fresh wooden spoon from her utensils pot to taste the sauce.

Tommy gives Oliver a quizzical look and his best friend shrugs.

“You had basil on the island?”

“There were a lot of things on the island,” Oliver admits, “but no, Raisa keeps an herb garden.”

“Ah,” Tommy says.

Tommy’s addition of dried basil still isn’t enough so Felicity rips a few stems of fresh basil from the pot and cleans them under the faucet.

She turns back to the counter and finds Oliver waiting with a knife and chopping board. She raises an eyebrow at him and he makes a ’come on’ gesture with the knife and so she lays the leaves on the board and steps back.

She leans back against the opposite counter-top and Tommy hands her glass of red.

Oliver makes swift work of the herbs then tips the board over the simmering pot and stirs them in.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” she says.

Tommy snorts. Oliver ignores him.

“I can’t,” he says, “but I can chop. I could do that even before the island. Raisa used to put me to work, but she soon found out I could burn water. Tommy was always better at the actual making of food.”

He dips the spoon into the sauce and holds it out her. She leans in and blows on it before tasting.

It’s perfect. 

She lets out a happy little sigh and she feels both Oliver and Tommy’s eyes lock onto her.

“It’s almost ready,” she says, trying to cover the automatic blush rising on her cheeks. “Just need to boil the pasta.”

She doesn’t look at them as she retrieves a sauce pan from a drawer and fills it with cold water and a dash of olive oil.

The kitchen is small enough anyway, but with all three of them sharing the space it's incredibly cramped.

“Do you want to set the table?” She asks, “mats are in that drawer. Cutlery in this one.” She gestures and Tommy catches her hand.

She expects him to squeeze her fingers and let go but instead he lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses her knuckles. She freezes and turns, surprised.

Tommy’s eyes are dark and his expression lascivious.

“Felicity,” Oliver says and she turns her head to see him standing right there, so close. “How does this taste re-heated?”

“Good,” she says, “sometimes I think it tastes better re-heated.” Then she blushes as she realises what he means. “But don't you want to talk?”

“We can talk later,” Tommy says and he tugs her hand, pulling her in the direction of her bedroom.

“The food,” she says, and looks back in time to see Oliver turn the stove burners off.

“Will wait,” her erstwhile boss says and she holds out a hand to him and they both let Tommy lead them down the hall. 

Tommy grins as he pushes open the door to Felicity’s bedroom.

Felicity looks to Oliver to see if he has any reaction to Tommy knowing his way around her apartment so well, but she never gets a chance to take in his expression because the second her face turns to his, he kisses her. 

Oliver’s hands are on her face and his lips are on hers and then suddenly another pair of hands slide around her waist and another pair of lips kiss the back of her neck and she gasps against Oliver’s mouth.

“Tommy and I talked,” Oliver says, and she can feel the breath of the words on her face. “I know he was here last night.”

Felicity feels herself flush, or maybe that’s just the effect of Tommy’s hands, one of which is now inside the neck of her dress, caressing her breasts, while the other presses low on her stomach.

“Do you mind?” She asks Oliver haltingly.

“I thought I would,” he says, “but then you and I had time today,” he kisses her again, and Tommy’s thumb rubs over her hard nipple and she shudders. “And besides, I’m sure there’s something you can do to make it up to me.”

Felicity looks at him, at his dark eyes. She nods and he grins.

“Okay,” Oliver says, and steps back, leaning against the door frame.

Tommy’s hand squeezes her breast and he bites her neck.

“How do you want to do this?” Oliver asks, watching them. “Because we both have some ideas, but we decided to leave it up to you.”

“I want you,” she says, breathlessly, “I want both of you.”

Oliver nods.

“You heard the lady,” he says to Tommy and the mouth on her neck and the hand on her breast are suddenly gone. She feels shaky on her own feet, and then she hears the noise of a zipper and feels a cool breeze on the back of her neck as Tommy unzips her dress.

Oliver’s eyes holds hers as Tommy slips the material off of her shoulders, leaving her in her bra and panties. His hands slip around her waist, and remembering how easy it is for her to get lost in Oliver, she turns, letting Tommy’s hands slip around to her back and lifts her mouth to kiss him.

Her fingers come up to undo Tommy’s shirt buttons - if she's almost naked she doesn't want to be the only one, but Oliver’s hands come around either side of her and he threads his fingers through hers, stilling them.

He pulls her hands down to her sides and his mouth latches onto the back of her neck.

In front of her, Tommy grins and slides his own jacket off, then drops to his knees and presses a kiss to the flesh of her stomach.

Tommy’s hands run from her ankles to her hips and her fingers clench around Oliver’s. Noting her reaction Tommy grins up at her, then slips her panties down.

Felicity’s breath catches in her throat but she forces the words out anyway.

“Guys? Do I not get to touch you?”

Oliver chuckles behind her and Tommy bites her stomach softly, and she shivers.

“All in good time,” Tommy says.

His fingers stroke her thighs and instinctively she shifts her stance to allow him better access. But to no avail because he’s apparently determined to tease her, kissing her abdomen, stroking her hips, dragging his blunt nails over her skin, avoiding the intimate areas she desperately wants him to touch.

She shivers and bites her lip. Her hands tighten on Oliver’s and she forces her arms straight, letting his hands in hers take some of her weight as she shifts onto her toes, her hips jerking at Tommy’s touch.

Her head falls back against Oliver’s shoulder, her breathing coming in pants, even though Tommy isn’t even really doing anything yet.

“Please,” she begs softly.

“Please what?” Oliver breathes into her ear.

“I-,” she starts, and then Tommy presses a kiss onto front of her sex and her mind goes blank.

Oliver bites her neck and she moans.

Tommy’s fingers come up to stroke her inner thigh and she groans.

And he licks -

And she’s gasping and shuddering and she needs Oliver's hands in hers to keep herself on her feet.

Tommy pulls back and she moans at the loss of his mouth, but then Oliver is letting go of her and she stumbles slightly and Tommy is there kissing her and she can taste her own arousal on his lips.

Tommy’s hands are on her face and Oliver’s hands are on her waist and both men walk her backwards.

Her bra is suddenly loose and then gone and she’s naked and neither one of them are showing any skin and she blinks.

“Hey,” she says, and reaches out to fist her hand in Oliver’s slim fitting sweater. “Lose the clothes, boys.”

“Told you it was all about you,” Tommy says, but he’s unbuttoning his shirt and grinning and she smiles in return. 

Oliver doesn’t say anything, just holds her gaze as he pulls his sweater off then steps in to kiss her.

He pushes her backwards, one hand in her hair, the other on her upper back, and she lets him lay her down on her bed. 

He moves his hands so he can brace himself over her and she kisses him, running her hands down the impressive muscles of his back. She feels the mattress shift and then Tommy is there, lying alongside her and she turns to him, Oliver shifting position to press himself along her back, and then she’s between them, kissing Tommy while Oliver strokes her side and nips at the skin behind her ear.

She pauses in her kiss and looks at Tommy. Oliver's hand is on her hip, sliding across her skin and Tommy’s hand is on her thigh, both hands so close to each other and not touching.

“It doesn't have to be all about me,” she says, and she sees Tommy’s expression freeze. She can't see Oliver’s face but if they’re going to do this, the two of them can't avoid touching each other forever, so she lifts her hand and threads her fingers through Oliver’s, then moves both their hands so they’re lying over Tommy’s.

Tommy looks at her, then his eyes flick to the side and she turns her head to see that he’s looking at Oliver.

Because this is the one thing none of them have talked about. Because Oliver can (and has) touched her, and Tommy can (and has) touched her and is touching her, but neither of them have touched each other and she is almost certain that Tommy at least really wants to do that.

But she's sure that this decision he will leave up to Oliver.

Oliver’s eyes are dark, but she feels his hand under hers squeeze Tommy’s.

“Ollie,” Tommy says and it comes out strangled.

Felicity stays quiet, watching them. Tommy is on edge, holding himself still while Oliver just watches.

She’s thought since this all began that Tommy has been hiding an attraction to Oliver for a very long time, but she has no idea of Oliver’s feelings about Tommy. Until yesterday she’d had no idea of Oliver’s feelings about her so she knows he can play his cards close to his chest.

But is this a line he would cross? Is this even a preference he has? 

They kissed before, under the influence of that damn bottle of tequila, but what did that mean? That inebriation trumps preference and the habit of years, or that there really is something here, long buried and unspoken?

Felicity bites her lip and watches.

Oliver holds Tommy’s gaze steadily.

Tommy, on the other hand, is becoming visibly nervous. He’s blinking, and his breathing has sped up and she can feel his hand, under Oliver’s, under hers, spasm against her leg.

And she sees the moment when Tommy decides to pull away and she reaches for him.

But Oliver gets there first.

His hand moves to cup his lifelong best friend’s cheek as he leans in to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I'm not leaving it there. Yes, there will be more. I'm just a bit blocked on this, so things are coming slowly. Sorry I've made you all wait so long...


	7. BSOD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very very smutty and NSFW. You have been warned. 
> 
> Also, I think this is the penultimate chapter of this story. Which may have been why it took so long to write. Sorry about that.

Felicity watches as Oliver kisses Tommy. At first Tommy is frozen, she can see the muscles of his shoulders and neck tense, can see the shock on his face. And then, Oliver opens his mouth and Tommy just seems to sigh into the kiss, his eyes closing and his own hand coming up to grab onto Oliver’s shoulder.

She watches and she doesn't say anything, too afraid of breaking the spell.

Oliver breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against Tommy's the way he did back on the floor of Verdant. Both men are breathing hard, and Oliver’s eyes are closed while Tommy is wide-eyed and staring.

Oliver pulls back and grins, but Tommy's not smiling. He looks almost shell-shocked.

Oliver looks at Tommy and his expression softens.

“That’s been a long time coming,” Oliver says softly.

Felicity resists the urge to punch the air and exclaim ’yes!’ because this is an intimate delicate moment and not something that she should be feeling vindicated about. 

Tommy’s still silent and staring, and Felicity doesn’t know what to say so it falls to Oliver to grin wryly and say, “First time I’ve ever kissed a man.”

Tommy bites his lip, them nods to himself.

“Not for me,” he admits.

“I know,” Oliver says.

Tommy’s eyes latch onto Oliver’s again.

“Did you know?”

“I've known you my whole life Tommy,” Oliver says simply, “but no, I didn't know until recently.”

“Recently?”

“The island,” Oliver shrugs, “made me look at a lot of things differently. Lots of time for hindsight. I had a few epiphanies. Most weren't the nice kind.”

“And this?” Tommy asks, and it's as if his entire confident persona has been swept aside, and all that’s left is a lost little boy, true to find out if anyone loves him, “Was this a good epiphany?”

“It wasn’t something I ever thought would come up between us,” Oliver says, “you were happy with Laurel, and then you weren't and then...tequila.”

“Tequila,” Tommy nods, and sighs. “What is this?” And he looks from Oliver to Felicity, “is this real? Or is this just one more night?”

Felicity raises her own hand to trace the line of Tommy’s cheekbone.

“Feels pretty real to me,” she says.

Tommy brings his hand up to wrap around her fingers and she leans forward to peck a kiss to his lips.

Oliver’s hand slips from Tommy’s shoulder to press, fingers open and palm flat, on Felicity’s abdomen. She feels his lips on her shoulder, moving along the skin, kissing every inch or so.

“What now?” Tommy says.

“You didn't need a guidebook before,” Felicity points out and suddenly he grins.

“No,” he says, and that Tommy Merlyn cocky confidence is back in his voice, and suddenly his hand is between her legs, his fingers stroking her and she gasps.

Instinctively she arches her back, thrusting her hips against his fingers and both of Oliver’s arms come up around her waist and she’s being lifted up into a seated position. 

She can feel Oliver’s chest against her back and one of his hands is stroking her chest and the other holds her hip and Tommy sits up in front of her, his fingers slipping down and sliding up, one finger inside her and his thumb stroking around her clit, and Tommy kisses her and Oliver bites her shoulder and it’s too much, she can't keep track of who is doing what anymore.

Tommy adds a second finger and she opens her eyes to see him raise his other hand to stroke Oliver’s wrist, and then Oliver reaches out and pulls Tommy close so she’s tightly pressed between the two of them.

Tommy kisses Oliver and Felicity sucks a hickey into Tommy’s shoulder and Tommy grins at her and twists his hand and suddenly his thumb is pressing down and her orgasm comes out of nowhere, blindsiding her, and she gasps and moans and shudders between them, pleasure filling all of her senses.

It takes her a minute to come back to herself and when she does Tommy is looking at her with such a smug expression on his face that she can't help but laugh.

She pushes at him and he falls backwards, sprawling across her bed.

And then she leans over him and undoes his belt, pressing a sloppy kiss to the skin just above the buckle.

She feels Oliver’s hands ghost along and down her back, sliding down the curve of her spine to rest on her lower back.

She looks back over her shoulder to see him, sitting on her bed, shirtless but otherwise fully dressed. She glances at Tommy, notes that his shoes and socks are gone, wonders when that happened.

Oliver’s eyes hold hers and he slips his hand, curving his fingers over the curve of her ass. She can see the question in his eyes, but she knows that he’s not going to vocalise it. Maybe he thinks she’ll be offended.

“In the drawer,” she says, instead, “there’s condoms. And lubricant.”

She hears Tommy make a soft noise - of approval? Or arousal? She’s not sure. It’s Oliver’s expression that holds her attention. He smiles and slips his hand around, running his fingers down the crease of her ass, the softest of touches on her sensitive skin.

“I’ll go slow,” he says, and she nods and turns back to Tommy, lifting herself so she’s on her hands and knees as she undoes the button of his pants and slips the material down, out of the way.

She focuses on Tommy, kissing down his stomach as she undresses him. He lifts his hips so she can slide his pants and underwear down and then he’s naked and erect and her eyes meet his and there’s a flash of déjà vu as she lowers her mouth and wraps her lips around his cock, just as she did on the floor of Verdant.

Oliver surprises her then, slipping two fingers inside her as she takes Tommy in her mouth. She moans and Tommy’s gaze looks past her to Oliver and she sees him bite his lip.

Oliver’s fingers feel sticky with more than just her juices, so she's unsurprised when, after thrusting into her in time with the movement of her head, his fingers withdraw and press instead against the sensitive skin around her ass. His other hand strokes at her clit, teasing her, and her orgasm is too recent to build anew but his touch sends a thrill through her body and she finds herself moving in time with him.

Tommy moans as Oliver presses on her clit and she drops her mouth all the way down so Tommy’s cock pushes at the back of her throat. She’s never be able to deep throat and she’s not going to try, so after a second or so she lifts her head, intending to continue her rhythm, but then that is also the moment when Oliver gently pushes one finger into her ass and she gasps, completely taken by surprise even thought she knew it was coming, that she’d almost asked for him to do it, that she owns lube for this exact reason and yet.

And yet Oliver Queen’s finger is in her ass and his other hand is teasing her clit and her mouth is wrapped around Tommy Merlyn’s cock and the hot erotic realisation that this is actually happening is enough to take her breath away.

“You like that?” Oliver says, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

She moans rather than answer, lets her pleasure speak for her.

“Tommy,” Oliver says and she sees him hand over a condom. Tommy takes the foil packet and rips it open. 

Felicity feels like she should be doing that but Oliver shifts his hand, rotating that finger the tiniest amount and she can't think of anything else but the feel of him.

Oliver’s other hand leaves her clit, running up her stomach and then pushes her up and she straightens from her hands and knees so she's sitting up on her knees and the angle and feel of his finger inside her changes and again she has to take a second to get her breath back.

She feels his body press up against her and she turns her head to kiss him.

She feels lips on her skin and she looks down to see Tommy lick at her nipple.

And then hands are on her and she’s being lifted and suddenly she’s straddling Tommy, with Oliver still pressed up against her from behind. And Tommy looks up at her wide dark eyes.

“Are you -” and she knows he's going to ask her if she’s sure, if she wants to do this but she’s already given permission, she won't break, she’s no victim and so she sinks down, taking his cock inside her and he loses his words halfway through the sentence and she thinks smugly that turn around is fair play and then Oliver strokes her clit and inserts a second finger into her ass and she’s the one without words or coherent thoughts or the ability to make any noise other than a moan of pleasure.

She’s riding Tommy, Oliver guiding her movements and speed and she lets him, enjoying taking and being taken at the same time.

And then his hand on her shoulder pushes her forward and Tommy’s arms welcome her down to him and Oliver’s fingers slip out of her and she has time to think how much she misses them before she feels the pressure of his cock against her ass and Tommy’s hands on her hips hold her still and Oliver slowly penetrates her and she’s moaning continuously now, her entirely body shaking and shuddering as the pressure and pleasure of having both of them inside her builds.

And it should be awkward, it should be painful, it should be someone how less than what it is, but it’s wonderful. And Oliver is kissing her neck and Tommy is kissing her collarbone and she’s pinned between them and it’s wonderful.

She feels gloriously, wonderfully full but they’re not moving and she wants them to move, to take her, and she tries to shift her hips but she can't.

And then Oliver pulls back, starts to move and Tommy slips into the rhythm and they're moving, the three of them, rocking together.

And one of them, she doesn’t know which, because her eyes are closed because the sensations are all too much, but one of them is stroking her clit and Felicity lets herself go and her mind spaces out as she comes, her entire body thrumming with pleasure like a perfectly played guitar.

She comes back to herself, breathing hard, collapsed against Tommy’s chest. Under her Tommy thrust up hard and she can feel his muscles tense as his body releases.

Oliver is still inside her but he’s not moving now, one of his hand is on her hip, his fingers entwined with Tommy’s.

She feels Oliver’s lips on the back on her neck, his hand sweeping her hair to a side so he can rest his head there.

She's exhausted. Spent.

And Oliver pulls back, pulls out of her, and she turns, letting her body fall to one side, so she's lying alongside Tommy, not astride him. 

She looks up at Oliver, sweaty, tense, breathing hard and she smiles.

“What do you want?” She asks, her words echoing his earlier question.

But this is Oliver Queen. He’s not good at talking about his feelings or his wants or his needs and so after a second she goes up on her knees to reach for him, picking up a fresh condom from her bedside table as she does so.

He discards the condom he’s already wearing as she opens the wrapper for a fresh one and then she’s pushing him so he lies back beside Tommy and then she’s looking down at two gorgeous naked men in her bed and her brain short circuits for a second. 

“BSOD,” she mutters to herself, then handwaves away Oliver’s questioning eyebrow. She swear she hears Tommy giggle but right now she only has eyes for Oliver as she rolls a fresh condom onto him (Be safe! Be healthy! Don't be stupid!) and sinks down, taking him inside her just as she did Tommy.

She leans back so his cock presses against the front of her insides and she can feel him running over that one particular spot as she moves.

One of his hands comes up on her hip, guiding her movements and the other reaches for Tommy, wrapping around Tommy’s neck to guide their lips together.

Tommy reaches a hand towards her and she grabs on to him, holding tight.

He squeezes her fingers, then lays her hand on Oliver’s chest and runs his hand down Oliver's skin, over her leg to behind her.

Tommy sits up slightly and Oliver has to lever himself up on his elbows to maintain the kiss. Felicity feels Tommy’s wrist twist against her ass, his fingers delving lower to stroke Oliver and she knows what he is doing, so she shifts herself forward slightly and leans down to bite at Oliver’s nipple. 

Oliver reacts, his entire body shuddering, and even though she can't see it she knows that reaction is down to Tommy’s fingers not her lips.

His hand on her hip tightens and he thrusts up into her and she watches the pleasure of his orgasm seem to roll throughout his entire body. She slows her movements until she's barely rocking against him and he opens his eyes, staring first at her and then Tommy and the three of them sit there, shocked silent by the intensity of what they just shared until Tommy’s stomach breaks the silence by rumbling and Felicity giggles.

“Is that a hint for food?”

“Can we eat it here?” Tommy asks immediately.

“Sure,” she says, “but if you ruin my sheets you’re buying me a new set. The sauce has red wine in it. It stains.”

“Let it,” Oliver promises, “I’ll buy you new sheets. I’ll even buy you a bigger bed to go with them.”

“A bed big enough for three?” She teases.

“Yes,” he says, solemnly, looking first to her and then to Tommy. “A bed big enough for three.”

And it's not a declaration of love, but it is one of intent and it’s more than she thought she’d ever hear him say. And it makes her happy.

So she laughs and climbs off him.

She’s not generally comfortable naked but this feels right, feels natural, and so doesn’t reach for a robe. Instead she skips through her apartment, naked as the day she was born, to find food to feed her lovers. 


	8. Coffee

She wakes up in the morning pressed between them, feeling warm and loved and also like she desperately needs to move because her arm is asleep.

Tommy is lying on his back, snoring softly. She’s pressed up against him on her side, her head on his arm. Oliver is spooned up behind her, his head also resting on Tommy’s arm, which must be having serious circulation issues by now. Oliver’s arm is wrapped tightly around her abdomen.

Somewhere in the night the blankets were lost - so Felicity has the odd sensation of being both too hot and too cold - hot where their skin hits hers and cold everywhere else.

She shivers involuntarily and Oliver’s arm around her tightens a little.

“Hey,” he whispers in her ear, barely audible.

“Hey,” she replies. She can only see Tommy so she has no idea what Oliver’s expression is. Will he regret it? Will he regret her? She has no way to ask those questions so she takes the coward’s way out. “How long have you been awake?”

“A while.”

She blinks, thinks. Oliver is not talkative at the best of times, but he hasn't let go of her, so that feels positive at least.

The key to this, she thinks, is just to be normal.

“Coffee?” She asks.

“Sure,” he says.

“Great,” she says, “filters are above the machine.”

He snorts out a soft laugh, presses a kiss to her shoulder then rolls away. Felicity turns onto her back, rubbing the arm she slept on and watches as a naked Oliver Queen walks away down the hall.

She could get used to that view.

She really could. 

Her fingers tingle, the blood flow returning. Beside her Tommy grunts in his sleep and turns onto his side, burrowing into the pillow.

Felicity reaches down and pulls the blanket up, tucking it around his shoulders. Then she retrieves a shirt from the floor and pads softly down the corridor after Oliver.

She’s doing up the buttons when she finds him in her kitchen, peering at her coffee machine in the same way he occasionally looks at the computer set up in Verdant’s basement.

He looks up as she enters, even though she could swear she never made a sound. Damn ninja reflexes.

“These things have gotten a lot more complicated in five years,” Oliver says, a touch of wry humor in his voice.

“Move over,” she orders, and he does so.

His hand ghosts over her back, over the material of Tommy’s shirt, sliding down to cup her ass.

“If you distract me,” she says, “there won’t be any coffee.”

“You’re the one that wanted coffee,” he says, but he steps back anyway.

Given that it’s a special occasion - or at least as special as her apartment ever sees - she bypasses the standard coffee maker and pulls her tiny espresso pot out of the cupboard. Beans are in the freezer and the electric grinder is under the sink. She lines them all up on the counter, then glances at Oliver.

“The grinder gets pretty loud,” she says.

“He’s out,” Oliver replies, “the smell might wake him but the sound won’t.”

She quirks an eyebrow.

“Tommy never could find an alarm clock that worked for him,” Oliver elaborates. “He used to say the best way to wake up was a girl.”

“We can test that theory,” she says, tipping a measure of beans into the grinder and locking the lid in place. 

“You want to be the girl?”

“Sure,” she says, then decides to push him a little, “you willing to be the test variable?”

Oliver lifts an eyebrow, obviously waiting for the explanation.

“If the best way to wake up is a girl,” Felicity says, “what happens if he’s woken up by a boy?”

“Ah.” Oliver rubs at his head then grins at her. “I like the way your mind works.”

“Many do,” she agrees, “I have a great mind.”

“Felicity,” he says suddenly, his expression turning serious, “you are sure about this, right? I don't want you to be hurt.”

She looks at him. Oliver Queen naked in her kitchen. 

“If you don't want me to be hurt,” she says, “don't hurt me. And yes, I'm sure about this. I want you. I want him. I want us.”

Oliver nods, then lifts a hand to trace his finger tips along her jaw.

Felicity flips the switch on the coffee grinder and the kitchen fills with the ugly noise of beans becoming powder.

Oliver doesn't flinch. But then, Oliver never flinches.

Instead he cups her cheek and leans in for a kiss.

It's a soft kiss, so different to the fevered passion they’ve shared so far.

“Felicity Smoak,” he says in wonderment, “where did you come from?”

“I was always here, Oliver,” she says as he rests his forehead against hers. “All you had to do was see me.”

The grinder ends and the kitchen is silent. Neither of them move. 

“How much do you want coffee right now?” Oliver asks. His breathing is heavier than it was a second ago and she knows what it is he’s really asking.

“I can leave it,” she says, “especially if there's a better offer on the table.”

Oliver grins.

There’s a beat and then she’s lifted clean off of the floor, tucked in his arms, her head on his shoulder. He’s already walking them back to her bedroom.

“Good,” he says, “because I think it's time for Tommy to wake up.”

“I couldn't agree with you more,” she says, and turns her head to bite his neck. He lets out a soft sound of approval.

“Why should he miss all the fun?” Oliver says, placing her gently on the covers, kissing her thoroughly, then walking around the bed so he can lie down on the other side of Tommy.

“I really don't think he should,” she replies, and keeping her eyes on Oliver, she presses her body up against Tommy and lowers her lips to his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are. Yes I know we never found out who drugged the tequila, but the relationship was more interesting and fun to write anyway. So I hope you all liked.


End file.
